


One for the Team

by HC_AnonA



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM Scene, But aren't we all, Chains, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Implied but hey it's there, M/M, Making Out, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Rough Sex, Slut Shaming, Spanking, Tango calls Zed buttercup, they're both gay horny and dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26458750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HC_AnonA/pseuds/HC_AnonA
Summary: Tango discovers that Zedaph had planned to sell counterfeit keys to his game and he reacts about as well as you would expect.
Relationships: Implied ZIT, Tango Tek/Zedaph (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 90





	One for the Team

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot be the only one that looks at all the VibesTM the dungeon with Zed in one of the cells gives, surely, so I wrote a PWP about it.

His eyes twitch while he sleeps and Tango almost gets his hopes up, leaning forward in his chair, but he can tell that Zedaph isn’t awake yet, nor will he be just yet, because though there’s the slightest hints of rousing movements and the clanks of chains, Zedaph’s breathing doesn’t change. As far as sleeping is concerned, it’s an obvious tell. In different circumstances than the current ones, he’s watched both of his lovers on the brink of wakefulness, had seen the way Impulse gets restless, as if his body wants to move before his mind is ready, had heard the little puff of a sigh from Zedaph just before purple eyes open to greet his, but no, this is not it. Tango rests his arms on the back of the chair and lays his chin there, face carefully blank, the shimmer of something just beneath his skin something he can barely keep himself from grinding his teeth at. A muscle in his jaw shifts regardless but, for now, no one is there to see it.

It’s quite a bit colder within the blackstone walls, the soul lanterns and hidden light sources barely giving off enough light to give shape to the carefully constructed dungeon, let alone any significant amount of warmth. Tango almost chuckles as his eyes drift over tanned skin, only a thin blanket keeping the chill from seeping into Zedaph’s body, but knowing him, he could sleep through worse. Even so, Tango sighs as he continues waiting. 

He is on the verge of getting up from his chair and just waking over to his boyfriend, but then he hears it, the slightest puff of a breath, the cold even more obvious with the way it colours the air mistier. Tango doesn’t change his posture in any observable way, but his frame is tense now, his eyes ever so slightly sharper, the grip he has on the back of the chair that little bit tighter. The clang of the chains is more pronounced now and, as he is, held up against the wall, wrists and ankles kept spread and a ring of metal bolted into the blackstone itself wrapped around his waist with a lock, Zedaph paints quite the image and, were this whole endeavour purposeless, Tango might have taken satisfaction in just seeing Zedaph like this before he would untie him, but as it stands, something thrums within him and Tango knows he won’t let this be over so easily, not by a long shot.

‘Ugh...’, is groaned faintly into the cold air and Tango tilts his head, but his expression is just as unreadable as before, deliberately, though the charade nearly crumbles when Zedaph’s eyes land on Tango, pretty purple a bit dull with sleep, plush lips slightly darker because of the temperature, the trembling set of his shoulders giving away the awareness that Zedaph is quikly regaining, ‘Tango…?’

Tango doesn’t speak, even if it only serves to accentuate the shock combined with apprehension on Zedaph’s face, though the slightest undertone of affection is still visible in the way his smile stretches faintly across his face, instead, he simply gets up from his chair, movements controlled and quiet, the sound of steel-toed boots something Tango softens as much as he can. He’d made sure to take out any clang detectors from the dungeon cell temporarily, just as he had taken the bars of it down for the time being. It will make for easier access and the thought makes the, almost obscene in its dark nature,  _ excitement _ that much louder in his mind. Seconds that feel like a restrained eternity pass and Tango is in front of Zedaph, a distance still kept between them, one that, given how Zedah strains forward in his chains, a confused frown marking his features, affects Zedaph exactly how Tango had planned.

‘He finally wakes’, Tango says, clearly, his words as emotionless as his face, even though he would usually make a spectacle out of them with grand, sweeping gestures and a wide grin firmly in place. It has the desired effect, making Zedaph’s confusion turn into slight worry. The chains move as Zedaph tries to untangle them from him before he, finally, notices that he doesn’t just happen to be propped up against a wall with chains dangling around him and is, instead, restrained to it, but the growing panic of Zedaph’s struggling does make the blanket slip from around his shoulders, leaving him completely naked under Tango’s gaze. His face colours red and Tango just barely bites back a smirk, his tongue suffering with how hard he tries to keep his reaction to himself.

‘Tango, what is this?’, Zedaph’s tone is more serious now, but from the awkward little smile on his face, he probably thinks this is a prank of sorts. It isn’t.

‘Why don’t you tell me?’, Tango quirks an eyebrow up and, as Zedaph’s eyes finally seem to clear with the sobering reality around him, Tango finally allows the cold, implacable feeling of righteous anger onto his face, the way it pulls at his grin, the way it makes his eyes darken enough to coax a small sound out of Zedaph exactly what Tango wants, ‘You know what you did.’

But it isn’t just fear that seems to settle in, no, Zedaph seems  _ confused _ , more so than before, and Tango has to grin. If Zedaph will play innocent, then that’s fine, but it won’t really change his plans. He takes another step closer to his chained up boyfriend, reaching for him, but not touching. He can see the way Zedaph’s body tenses up slightly.

‘Well, I’m afraid I don’t really-’

‘Don’t play dumb’, Tango growls lowly, but the heavy look on his face morphs into satisfaction when he sees just how his words hit Zedaph, a shiver running through his frame and blood colouring his cheeks pink. Even so, the seething, glowing  _ fury _ that hides beneath the thin veneer of a smile makes Tango hold out one of his hands, his fingers wrapping around Zedaph’s warm throat as if they belong there. He can feel the way Zedaph’s pulse quickens and, by now, he is quite sure that Zedaph understands  _ precisely _ which direction Tango is steering things in, but he still plays the confusion up, wide eyed and panting as he is. It merely makes Tango tighten his grip ever so slightly.

‘But I really don’t-’, Zedaph tries, his voice barely above a whisper, rough with sleep and something else, his cock quickly filling up when Tango crowds him against the wall even more, bringing their faces together, lips a breath apart, Zedaph's panting turning into a wheezing, aroused sort of noise for just a second.

‘Selling keys to my game, ha’, Tango laughs, but his smile is as cold as ever, sharp fangs clearly on display, but Zedaph only tenses up further at the sight of them, his pretty purple eyes flittering between Tango’s lips and the steely look on his face, ‘Is there  _ anything _ you wouldn’t do for diamonds, Zed?’

Zedaph looks like he wants to say something, but Tango’s hold of his throat seems to make him think better of it, so he just gulps, face turning even redder, which Tango takes as an admission of guilt, arousal at seeing Zedaph like this and a lingering need for revenge meeting somewhere in the middle, feeding the fire spreading through his arms as he gives Zedaph’s neck a last squeeze before letting go.

‘Nothing more to say, huh? That’s ok, you won’t need your words for  _ this. _ ’

Tango’s hands find Zedaph’s hips next, the action pulling a small groan out of Zedaph as his fists tighten in their shackles. He studies Zedaph’s face for a second, red and caught between emotions and, after hesitating for just a second, allowing his own thoughts to settle into the mold of what he has in store for Zedaph, Tango buries his head into the side of Zedaph’s neck, the scrape of his fangs accompanied by a sharp, keening sound from Zedaph. He doesn’t bite yet, but the intention is there, in the hot breath that meets chilled, lightly freckled, but otherwise unmarked skin, and Tango revels in the way it makes Zedaph shake in his hands, his lower half tensing up with an attempted thrust that is firmly brought to a halt by the metal around his waist.

‘I’m not mad’, Tango lies through gritted teeth, allowing his words to sink into the soft skin just as his fangs do, ‘I’m just  _ disappointed _ .’

He bites the last word into Zedaph’s skin, the loud, short gasp of an exhale a reaction Tango likes, but one that isn’t nearly  _ enough _ , so he keeps Zedaph steady, one clothed knee moving between spread thighs and grinding up just as Tango pulls back from Zedaph’s neck, looking into Zedaph’s eyes, hazy with want but still cautious. They both know that all of this can cease, all Tango needs is one word, but he’d figured that he might as well use the pent up anger that finding the little popup shop selling keys,  _ his _ keys, had given him a bit more  _ productively _ . Zedaph pants, but Tango’s knee is still, which makes it obvious that he is waiting for some sort of confirmation, which is given in the form of a short nod and a shaky smile. Tango groans then and, as if to wipe the dopey smile off of Zedaph's face, he jumps right back into biting at his neck, but it isn’t just a touch of teeth against flesh, nor the tease of a real bite this time, no, Tango lets himself go and just digs his teeth into the meat of one shoulder, feeling the way the skin gives under the pressure, the metallic taste replacing the salt of sweat just as a half muffled scream echoes around the dungeon, bouncing off of the walls and encouraging Tango to bite deeper into the skin, even as blood stains his lips.

‘ _ Tango _ ’, Zedaph wails, but the airy quality of his voice betrays how much he is actually enjoying the pain and, as Tango pulls back to admire his work, his own cock hardening as the sound of his own name rings in his ears like some sort of lewd melody, he nearly collapses with a heavy groan, knees weak at how wrought with stimulation Zedaph already looks, lips bitten red, eyes wet and nearly black with pupil, shoulders drawn up, one of them adorned by a circle of small, puncture wounds, one of Tango’s sharp canines having dug deep enough that blood trails down the trembling line of Zedaph’s arm, but what really grabs Tango’s attention and holds it is how hard Zedaph already is, his cock, long and curving against his stomach, red at the tip and wet with precum from the pain of the bite alone, but Tango cannot deny how much the sight of Zedaph’s chest moving up and down with his frantic breaths, the quick pulse of his heart nearly something he can see in the way he trembles, pleases him.

‘Seems like you really like being punished, huh?’, Tango asks, but it isn’t a question, his tone revealing it as a not only a mere observation, but almost an insult of sorts, the implied truth of it making Zedaph bite his lip and avert his gaze, ‘Then you should take this well enough.’

And just like that, Tango goes back to biting Zedaph’s neck, none of his next bites nearly as hard or as thorough, though Tango makes sure each of them leaves a mark, some of them being ‘soothed’, though he knows the way he pushes into the wounds with his tongue is all but, even if Zedaph enjoys the sting, some simply left to bruise up on their own. When he is satisfied with the damage, with the way Zedaph is panting and gasping, his heart beating loud enough that Tango can hear it, he sucks on a spot beneath his ear idly as he waits for Zedaph to gain some composure, to right himself in his chain while he awaits Tango’s next move. He continues dotting small hickeys in between the bruises and bites almost absentmindedly as he waits for Zedaph to drop his guard, even his hands gentling around his hips, Tango’s thumbs digging into the dip of the bones as comfortingly as he can and, when Zedaph sighs softly, his eyes fluttering shut, his lower lip being released from between his teeth, shining with spit, Tango moves in again.

The sound of a slap shatters the small moment of silence, as does the shocked moan on which Zedaph’s voice breaks. Tango grins into his skin and pulls back to watch him, his palm massaging Zedaph’s flank, his own imprint quickly reddening into another mark. There’s a question in the way Zedaph looks at him, but his eyes are misty and precum leaks from his cock. God, Tango is hard just from seeing him like this, hearing him like this, but just as his own arousal adds another twist to the coil of pressure in his stomach, the satisfaction sets it all ablaze.

‘Count them for me’, he says firmly and, when Zedaph attempts to smile again, as if he is about to tease Tango for such a light punishment, Tango digs his fingers into the still tender flesh of his thigh as a warning, fully aware that this will hurt more than a couple of slaps against his arse would, the skin there that much more sensitive , ‘We’ll do ten, to start off with. Take too long and I’ll add another five spanks, stutter and I’ll do a repeat. Miss one and...’

Zedaph whimpers when Tango pushes his knee up again, precum making the leg of his trousers damp, but he knows that all this does is push Zedaph closer to an edge that Tango won’t let him fall off of just yet. Still, Tango feels a little mean and he makes sure Zedaph is watching him before he grins, nearly maliciously, a lustful and almost destructive look in his eyes, one that makes Zedaph cower and moan his name with a heavy tongue and a wrecked voice.

‘...We start again. Got it?’

There’s a moment of silence after that, but the way Zedaph scrambles to nod his affirmation with a small sound is adorable, so Tango holds onto the hip in one of his hands more firmly while continuing to rub the reddened skin in his other gently. Zedaph tenses up in anticipation, but Tango lets it simmer, just as he allows his own feeling of contentedness settle in for a second before he raises his palm and strikes Zedaph again, slightly lower this time. Zedaph gasps sharply, when the hit lands, but he hisses through his teeth as the heat of the spank settles after a second and Tango grins. He does it again when no sound comes out, but it seems to rouse Zedaph this time around. He blubbers for just a bit but immediately calls out with a startled voice.

‘One! Fuck...’

Tango nods, slowly, but he does scratch down the raw surface of his skin.

‘Don’t be so vulgar’, Tango says and it would be funny, the contrast between what he is saying to Zedaph and what he is doing to him, but for now, all it does is make Zedaph sigh softly while Tango watches him. He doesn’t think this little slip should earn Zedaph another extra slap, none of the established rules being broken, so he simply nods, trying to not let just how much the sight of Zedaph’s teary eyes and slightly parted lips affects him show.

Once they are both back into the moment, Tango doesn’t hesitate to raise his palm and hit Zedaph even higher, his fingers skimming across where his hip bone flattens into the area of his pelvis. Zedaph jolts in his hands with a wanton cry just as his eyes screw shut, the tears clinging to his eyelashes. 

‘Two… Two!’, he says, quietly at first, louder when Tango looks at him with a hard look. 

God, Zedaph will bruise from this and Tango cannot wait to see it, almost groaning and lettings his facade break with how the image of it gets his blood boiling, but letting Zedaph wait, anticipation making him shiver, as this thought just about makes Tango throb in his trousers is cruel, so he just continues with his ministrations, changing the switching to hitting the front of Zedaph’s thigh this time around, dangerously close to his weeping cock, the pain having diminished his erection, though Zedaph seems to be hardening again from this.

‘T-three...’

And there it is. Tango grins, spanking the exact same spot, except harder, relishing in the sob it pulls out of Zedaph, the tears finally falling from his purple eyes and streaking across red cheeks, gathering at a trembling chin.

' _ Three, _ oh God.'

* * *

It takes them a lot longer than Tango had anticipated, what with Zedaph losing coherency about halfway through, Tango skipping on some of the repeat hits just out of the pity of Zedaph’s cries turning into pained babblings, even if, judging by the way his cock bobs with every hit, Zedaph wouldn’t necessarily have mindedd them. 

‘T-...  _ Please... _ ’, Zedaph begs, a line of drool at the corner of his lips and the tears in his eyes now dried up, his eyes barely open at this point, but the number doesn’t come out, even as Zedaph keeps opening and closing his mouth, squirming in his chains, whining when Tango’s eyes harden. Zedaph knows, just as well as Tango does, what this means, but it isn’t subtle, how close to breaking Zedaph is. He’s always liked pain, has just enjoyed any sort of touch, but Zedaph has had a particular knack for being hurt, perhaps for the comfort he could get afterwards or for the thrill the hurt would give him, but Tango knows his limits and, at least today, they aren’t really trying something entirely new, even if Tango is pushing him a little harder than he usually would so, with a small exhale, Tango softens the emotions showing on his face as best as he can and unclenches a hand from a shaking hip, keeping his eyes locked with Zedaph’s, fully aware that glancing down at the finger-shaped bruises would only serve to distract him.

He still has something in mind for his boyfriend, but seeing him like this is already enough for Tango, so, slowly, he raises a hand and cups a hot cheek, his thumb teasing Zedaph’s lips open, running across the softness of them gently. Zedaph sighs softly, then, and Tango smiles at him, the little lopsided line of it making Zedaph blink once before going boneless in his chains.

‘Come now, buttercup, say it. It’s the last one’, Tango encourages and he knows that his voice is still raspy with intent, quiet though it may be, but Zedaph relaxes at the words, takes one long, deep breath and whispers it.

‘Ten...’, Tango nods and brings their faces closer together, almost laughing when Zedaph mouths at his lips, even with Tango’s finger keeping his own open, so Tango moves his palm to cup Zedaph’s nape, a small barrier between his head and the blackstone wall as Tango presses him into it with a small kiss, short and barely a brush of lips. It seems to do the job when, whatever tension Zedaph had still been shivering with, leaves him, his body all loose and warm in Tango’s hands, soft and pliable, only the metal of the chains giving him any real support besides Tango’s own clothed frame pressing into him.

‘We can stop here, I think this is good enough’, Tango whispers against Zedaph’s lips, his fangs just shy of nipping into the soft skin of them where they are already tender from Zedaph trying to quiet his sounds, but he can feel the way silky strands of hair tickle the side of his face. Zedaph is shaking his head and letting out a low, whining sort of sound.

‘No, please, I want...’, Zedaph tries, but when Tango pulls back a little to look at him, he seems almost shy with it, eyes looking off to the side, shoulders drawn up a bit and pink lips pulled in a slight pout. At this point, were he not all chained up, Tango is sure Zedaph would have just pounced on him, would have sat in his lap and would have taken whatever he desired, which is why Tango smirks at how helpless Zedaph is right now, at Tango’s mercy, and isn’t that a thought, but Tango doesn’t analyse it any further, instead choosing to trail the fingers of his free hand up Zedaph’s body.

Muscles tense and skin shifts beneath his touch, but it is all soft and heated, the dip of Zedaph’s waist a pleasant weight in Tango’s hand, even as Zedaph struggles a bit, the chains clinking sharply, but the moan he lets out, not to mention the way his face changes once he realises Tango is moving closer, is encouragement enough for Tango to get between his legs again. Going with a last minute decision, Tango bites Zedaph’s lips open, just until Tango can sneak his tongue inside, taking his lover’s mouth in a hot kiss, one full of noises being shared just as their breaths are, of teeth clacking together and of something else changing between them. Tango can  _ feel _ the vibrations of Zedaph’s moan around his tongue and he can only tighten his grip on his waist when he twitches, but what Tango doesn’t expect is 

the way thighs lift around him, surrounding his own waist, the give of the chains barely enough to allow the movement, but Tango groans at this and brings both hands to those flexing thighs, all but hoisting Zedaph up even higher, not entirely too fussed by how the wall must feel against Zedaph’s back when he pushes him even harder against the gritty, dark material of it.

‘Fuck me’, is the ultimatum Zedaph greets him with, now standing a bit higher with how Tango helps hold him up, his hard cock rubbing against the naked skin of Zedaph's arse, the friction, even through the layer of his trousers, feeling heavenly, half-lidded, misty with something just this side of arousal eyes focusing on Tango as best as they can, but Zedaph isn’t finished and Tango growls when Zedaph pushes his hips down as best as he can with the ring of metal still keeping him pinned to the wall, ‘Whatever this is… Get it out of your system. I know you want to, know you want  _ me _ like this, against the wall. Take what you want, love, as hard as you need it...’

The slew of filth spilling forth is enough to get Tango’s head spinning, enough to make his fingers dip into Zedaph’s cheeks, pulling them and exposing the cleft of his arse to the dungeon’s cold air and Tango really,  _ really _ wants to do just that, wants to pound Zedaph into the hard wall, wants to bruise him up, wants to ruin Zedaph, to get the tension out and, God, if Zedaph is as eager as his words and his body language make him out to be, then that is all Tango needs. Even so, he hesitates for another moment, looks into the pretty purple of Zedaph’s eyes, one hand letting go of its handful of flesh, but Zedaph gets the message. Despite the confidence of his words, the breathy quality of his voice, he seems almost tense. Even so, he nods, once, softly, twice, when Tango still seems unconvinced.

And so Tango claims Zedaph’s mouth in one last kiss before using his newly free hand to work on the buckle of his own trousers, clumsily undoing it, barely able to get his cock out with the frantic energy suddenly flowing into his limbs, not even considering the rest of his clothes in this very moment, but something is nagging Tango, just at the back of his mind, some sort of need, something that only seems to burn brighter when Zedaph arches into him as Tango’s newly freed dick, hard and heavy with arousal, rubs against Zedaph's cleft. Tango bites his lover's lips against the little thought for now, but he has to eventually pull away when his own vision is filled with crackling spots at its edges, the lack of air something made even more obvious by how hard they both pant once the kiss is broken.    
‘Suck’, Tango orders as he brings his hand to Zedaph’s agape mouth, two fingers already resting on his tongue before Zedaph can even whine and close his lips around them. His tongue works between the fingers eagerly though, drool coating them thoroughly and, before Tango can just about spill from imagining his cock there instead, pretty lips stretching around his base, Zedaph swallowing him down expertly, he pulls them back and doesn’t waste any more time in plunging them into Zedaph’s hole, shallowly.

‘Fuck, you’re tight’, Tango groans and leans his forehead into Zedaph’s shoulder, feeling his boyfriend twitch against the blackstone, his walls clenching around Tango rhythmically. Tango tries to keep his own body under control, focusing on just thrusting his fingers in and out of Zedaph’s entrance, spreading them when just his fingertips remain inside and inhaling deeply at the sounds it pulls from Zedaph.

‘Come on,  _ come on _ , I’m… I’m ready’, Zedaph says between gritted teeth, bending with it when Tango fucks his fingers into him one last time, an almost mournful wail echoing around the cell when Tango drags his fingers out of him, but they are both getting impatient, especially as Tango holds his own dick at Zedaph’s entrance and, after one steadying breath, pushes himself all the way in, precum easing the way. The long moan it coaxes out of Zedaph is nearly too much and Tango has to tighten his fingers around his dick once he pulls out a fraction because he feels like he could come from this alone, but he doesn’t want to, not just yet, though Zedaph tightens around him in a way that makes it that much more tempting. Tango finds himself talking before he even realises that he’s opened his mouth, words flowing in time with the hard snap of his hips and the loud keen Zedaph lets out when Tango returns to squeezing his waist, just beneath the metal holding it in place, between rough hands, the heels of Zedaph's feet digging into the small of Tango’s back.

‘You just want a cock inside you, don’t you, buttercup?’, he asks, but doesn’t await an answer, not when he starts fucking Zedaph, slowly, thoroughly, Zedaph pulling at the cuffs holding his hands until his fingers turn white, his hair falling in his face as he tries to bring his body closer to Tango’s, but he  _ can’t _ and Tango enjoys it too much, the way it makes Zedaph’s brows pinch together in frustration, the way it makes him huff out an exasperated sort of sigh, but it doesn’t prepare him for the desperation in Zedaph’s next words.

‘ _ Please _ , Tango.’

It nearly sounds like Zedaph is begging, but it’s not there just yet and Tango groans at the mere thought of bringing Zedaph to that sort of limit, so he draws his hips back and fucks up into Zedaph again, fingers digging into smooth skin, holding Zedaph still, even if his restraints already do that well enough.

‘ _ Don’t you? _ ’, Tango repeats as he starts thrusting almost wildly, though still mindful of his pace, smirking crookedly, showing his fangs when Zedaph’s eyes roll back, ‘You look beautiful like this, panting and moaning for me, taking my cock so well...’

The words do something to Zedaph, Tango realises, because his shoulders tense up and his moan is muffled by teeth digging into his own bottom lip, but Tango won’t have that. He kisses Zedaph until he yields under his tongue, until he lets Tango swallow a mewl, until Tango can draw back and groan at how Zedaph all but breaks beneath his thrusts, his hole clenching around him until Tango feels like he is losing his mind. Tango increases the rhythm of his thrusts, if only to hear the hitch in Zedaph’s breath, to feel the way his stomach hardens under Tango’s palms.

‘Bet this is why you did it, huh? Wanted to seem innocent, but you never could keep it in your pants,  _ little whore _ ’, Tango growls and presses their foreheads together, ‘Fuck yeah, look how wet you are, how you tighten around me,  _ shit _ , I’m gonna fuck you so hard, buttercup.’

And Zedaph  _ is _ , his cock leaking and the drops of his precum something that, at any other time, would tempt Tango to just suck him until he doesn’t have anymore to give, until he is screaming for mercy, body twitching with overstimulation and voice raspy with overuse, but the tightness of his body keeps Tango just where he is, his pace quickening, their breaths mingling in time with his movements.

‘Harder, come on, fuck me h-harder’, Zedaph grunts out, but by the way it cuts off on a scream, Tango can tell he’s hit his prostate and he just grins as he keeps fucking against that very same spot, almost giving into the need to just fuck Zedaph until he falls into his own release, but he wants this to last, wants to keep Zedaph from coming until he hurts with it. And yet, Tango thinks as he kisses Zedaph again, more so pecking his lips as his speed increases just so, even if if his thrusts are shallower, giving Zedaph and himself a small moment of silence, but the tension isn’t broken by it, in fact, it seems to rise further, wrapping around them, not unlike the metal chains that now rattle as if possessed.

‘Beg then.’

It is a simple requirement, clear and loud in the suddenly silent cell, but Zedaph falls into a heap of loose limbs and heated skin against the wall, his eyes shut tightly and his mouth open around a small sound. If the way he squeezes around Tango’s cock means anything, then he isn’t  _ opposed _ to it, so Tango holds him more firmly and stills his cock inside him, pressed up against where he knows his sweet spot is.

‘...I want it, can’t you see?’, Zedaph suddenly says, voice so small that Tango has to strain his ears to hear it, but his face looks vulnerable, almost, except for the glint of lust and want in his eyes, his throat constricting as he gulps, but he isn’t begging and Tango’s face hardens with a certain look that makes his boyfriend draw back a little, just as his cock twitches, almost painfully red by now where it arches into Zedaph’s stomach. Tango isn’t faring much better either, his erection painful where it is constricted by Zedaph’s arse like a goddamned sleeve made to drive him mad specifically, ‘Please, love...’

Tango doesn’t respond, just begins drawing out of the hot hole around him, the drag of flesh against flesh prompting a hiss out of him, but Zedaph begins struggling anew at this, eyes opening wide, the purple barely visible against dilated pupils, the gleam in them still evident. He attempts to speak, but Tango lets go of his waist, letting Zedaph fall onto his cock as much as the metal holding him up will allow, drawing a sharp cry from pink lips.

‘If you want my come, if you want my cock, be a good whore and  _ beg _ ’, Tango repeats and, as if to demonstrate his point, he grins up into Zedaph, just barely missing his prostate, before he pulls back out, only the head stretching Zedaph’s red rim, but it does the trick as, with tears rolling down his red cheeks once more, Zedaph’s legs tense around Tango’s waist once more. Finally, after a painful sounding gasp, Zedaph responds, the arousal and the agony mixing in his words, dripping with his need, and Tango groans at what he hears, eyes closing against the image it brings in his head, his own hips twitching as he forces himself to remain still inside Zedaph.

‘But I’m  _ your _ whore, tight and wet for you, s-see?’, Zedaph’s hole flutters around Tango’s head and, as if on command, a drop of precum trails down the curve of his hard cock, ‘So fuck me, please, Tango,  _ please. _ Give me your cock, give me your come, stuff me with it-’

And that’s all Tango needs because, fuck it, he’s going to blow his load like this and that’s not something he wants to happen, not in these circumstances, so he draws back until his cock leaves Zedaph’s body gaping and open around nothing, the muscle clenching and unclenching for him lewdly, before he slams back in, twin sounds of pleasure intertwining like a particularly rough and sensual chorus, especially given how the sound bounces off of the walls in the dungeon. He fucks Zedaph, pounds into him like there is no tomorrow, desperation keeping him from holding anything back, the force and strength behind his movements all but bouncing Zedaph up as much as the metal collar around his waist will give, always stopping at his hips and outstretched thighs, bruises sure to form there as well.

‘Fuck, I’m going to fucking  _ ruin _ you, buttercup, going to wreck you until you learn to be a good whore for me’, Tango says, but the words are spoken so lowly and so roughly that he isn’t even sure if Zedaph hears him, but maybe it doesn’t matter, not when Zedaph’s eyes are rolling back again before slipping shut, not when he is moaning out failed, stuttered attempts at Tango’s name, not when Tango feels like he is swinging closer and closer to orgams with each thrust, fuck, with each  _ breath _ , 'Just like that,  _ take it _ .'

Zedaph is so tight around him and only grows tighter with his rising orgasm and Tango knows, he  _ knows _ Zedaph will come like this, can see it in the way all of the muscles in his body bunch together all at once under soft, sweaty skin, and the thought is electrifying.

‘ _ Please, please, please- _ ’, Zedaph blabbers as he falls on the edge between coherency and utter ecstasy, so Tango grips his cheeks in both hands, pulling his arse apart as he all but hammers into it, the sound of skin on skin and the constant stream of moans enough to make Tango groan as he approaches his end, his blood liquid thunder where it gathers in his face, in his dick, leaving his brain running on nothing but the pressure of his own pleasure.

‘ _ Fucking shit, Zed- _ ’

And he comes like that, almost like a chain reaction breaking onto the overwhelming  _ pain _ of his orgasm, because Zedaph is like a vice around him and he has gone stock still, an image that Tango would worship, would fall onto his knees for, mouth wide around a silent scream, eyes closed, his skin shining in the low light and his body already bruising up, marked and undeniably  _ Tango’s _ , his own come splattered against his lower stomach. He has stopped breathing for a second and, with a last, low moan, Tango spills inside the walls squeezing his dick and not letting go even as his come fills Zedaph up.

They both collapse onto the wall, Tango slipping his softening cock out of the relaxed entrance of his lover and caging Zedaph there with his own body, as if he would need to be restrained any further, but as the heat of their endeavour fades around them, as they regain their breath, the chill seems to, once again, become something they cannot ignore. Tango is still dressed, though, so he simply tucks himself back into his trousers clumsily before he crouches down and, resting his head against Zedaph’s faintly trembling thigh before he moves to stand back up, dragging the fallen blanket with him, which he then drapes around Zedaph’s shoulders.

No words are exchanged between them as Tango fishes a small key out of his back pocket and nothing other than the clank and thuds of the metal hitting the ground fill the silence when Tango lets Zedaph fall into his arms, barely awake at this point. It is with heavy limbs and soft nothings exchanged between tham that Tango carries him into the small bedroom he’s set up just outside the actual area for Decked out, but once he does, though Tango knows he will regret it come morning, he just lays them both in the soft bed, shedding his clothes while Zedaph rolls over until he is laying on his side, eyes bleary as they watch Tango and arms open. 

Tango smirks softly, but no sooner is he naked does he slip under the covers, Zedaph's smaller body a warm draped across his back, chuckling as Zedaph clings to him, letting out a small, adorable sort of sound that makes Tango’s heart squeeze in his chest. Neither of them have even the energy to say good night at this point, so they simply cuddle up in the bed, Zedaph’s arms tight around Tango’s middle and Tango gripping Zedaph’s one hand in his, laying a gentle kiss across his knuckles, and fall asleep like that.

* * *

Of course, the next morning, cleaning up is hell, though Tango is sure he shouldn’t be complaining, not when almost every square inch of skin on Zedaph’s torso is covered in hickeys, bitemarks and finger shaped bruises, not when Zedaph has trouble even  _ moving _ his legs, not to mention the raw skin of his wrists and ankle and the  _ blue _ tint of his skin on the side of his thigh. But the aches and groans of a cold morning fade with a warm shower and even warmer touches.

Zedaph decides to nap on a little longer against his chest while Tango checks his communicator, responding to some business inquiries about his shops and, finally, opening his private messages with Impulse.

To say that Tango jumps out of bed, leaving a startled and dazed Zedaph sprawled onto it, as he reads over Impulse’s messages once more is a bit of an understatement.

The words ‘fake keys’ and ‘wanted to prank you’ and ‘hope you didn’t get too mad - he really didn’t mean any harm, you know how Zed is’ stick in his mind, playing over and over again, even as Tango lays his communicator on a chest next to the bed but, judging by the sheepish grin on Zedaph’s features, once Tango turns to face him, Zedaph had known, he had  _ known _ and he still hadn’t safeworded in order to tell Tango that he had been an idiot and-

‘I loved it, Tango, you should fuck me like that more often, love’, Zedaph chimes in, sounding kinds of happy and content and smiling softly and his wounds look so  _ good  _ on him and Tango kind of wants to punch himself, but he also wants to chase Zedaph and whack him with a stick.

**Author's Note:**

> So I may or may not be working on a longer Zedango fic... ;)


End file.
